Breaker (Ondine Quartet Book 4) (4 page)

Probably Aub or Chloe. Maybe Cam.

I looked happy.

A sound escaped Rhian’s lips, too soft to make out.

I leaned in. “What?”
 

“Things…I want…say.”

“Rest. You can tell me later.”

“Trust…” Inhale. “Them.”

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.

Her voice became a mere whisper. “First…and…last…”

A sharp intake of breath followed by a tingle. Magic sparked between us.
 

Her Virtue was slipping out of control. She needed to conserve her energy.

“I know,” I reassured her. “I spoke to Jourdain.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut.

After Renee had been pulled back to the ocean, I’d confronted Jourdain, the mother of our race, about it. Not only had the origins of the war been concealed from elementals, but also the truth behind the recall process.

If ondines didn’t mate with a demillir or human by age twenty-three, magic pulled them back to the waters, reverting them to their dessondine ancestral form. Jourdain created that magical ultimatum to ensure the continuation of the demillir race, thereby producing enough soldiers for the war.
 

During that volatile and highly enlightening conversation, I’d also discovered a bit more about my family. The Irisavies were the first Redavi family and Empath had been the first Virtue.

And as the last survivor in my family, I had the misfortune of representing the first and last of my bloodline.

Rhian sighed, a soft sound of regret.

Does your failure as a mother keep you up at nights?

I wanted to reassure her, have her know it wasn’t for nothing.

But I couldn’t, because I wasn’t sure.

Rhian had sacrificed everything. She’d become Governor at eighteen and given her entire life to Haverleau and elementals. She’d suffered unimaginable losses and had always put others before herself. Her iron will was a result of remarkable endurance and resilience.

Now that strength was fading and I didn’t have the power to change it. Reconciling the Governor I knew with the frail ondine now lying as helpless as a baby was impossible.

Renee once said time and death were life’s great equalizers. As I took in my grandmother’s frail form, her body weakened in the same way as every other mortal, I couldn’t help but wonder.

Had it been worth it?
 

“Tell… me.”

I held her hand. “Tell you what?”

“Everything.”

Her chest rose and fell with each breath. I remembered how she’d visited over the years, watching from a distance.

I began.

I told her my earliest memories, the ways Dad made me laugh. How much Mom had loved him.
 

Other details emerged, random things my memory had held on to. How the sky had looked on my fifth birthday. How my friend Robbie and I put pieces of wood together to create pretend forts. How my first grade teacher, Mrs. Alba, had been my favorite because she’d taught me how to draw a hippopotamus.

I told her about my fourth birthday. There was nothing in the world I’d wanted more than a puppy and I’d cried non-stop for two days when I didn’t get it.

I shared my fights with Mom, the things we disagreed over both big and small. And then I told her the ways in which we were alike, an admission I’d never made aloud.
 

But in the quiet enclosed space of her bedroom, accompanied only by the gentle rhythm of her breath, I felt safe to say it.

Hours passed and still, I continued. My throat grew raw, my voice hoarse.
 

I shared how Ian had befriended me. How terrified I’d been when Mom died, how I’d hidden the fear behind anger, much like she’d done with Dad.
 

What I’d felt the first moment Tristan whipped around that corner in San Aurelio.

The time between the rises and falls stretched.

Inhale. A few moments of silence. Then a slow exhale.
 

My throat tightened. I kept talking.

Her chest rose. Fell.

Rose. Fell.

Rose…and no longer fell.

No sigh, no exhale. Simply an abrupt stop, an unadorned end that didn’t match the gravitas of her life.
 

I was the last Irisavie.

Twilight splashed across her pale skin, leaving puddles of ivory across the bedding. I gently rearranged her hands on her stomach, and closed her eyes.

I don’t know how long I sat there, cocooned in silence.
 

Night deepened, mind refusing to process what I had to do next.

Finally, my body’s natural instinct for survival kicked in.
 

Get up. Move.

Numb, I smoothed out the comforter and brushed back a few tendrils of her hair. Tension had disappeared from her face, leaving behind serenity. She looked like she was sleeping.
 

I walked to the door and touched the handle. My hand trembled.

This was it. No time left for fear or panic, grief or rage.
 

Once I stepped through, the world would shift. The safety of this bedroom, the security I had under my grandmother’s protection and leadership, would be no more.

I took a deep breath, hardening every inch of me as if expecting a punch, and opened the door.

TWO

Even in death, my grandmother’s duty claimed her.
 

Marcella had returned to the ocean on the beautiful strip of coastline behind the Governing House. The subtle perfume of flowers, sea, and sun had imbued the quiet good-bye. An intimate gathering of friends and colleagues who’d genuinely admired and cared for my aunt made the process personal and memorable.
 

It was a stark contrast to Rhian’s farewell.
 

Hundreds of strangers filled the austere Council Chamber. Built like a closed amphitheater, three levels of tiered seating circled above the main floor. Strangers gazed dispassionately down at us, their perfunctory attendance born of obligation than any personal desire to say good-bye.

The official explanation of her death was a version of the truth.
 

We needed intel on what information Bastien may’ve extracted while at Riviere and too many people had witnessed the explosion of magic above the cafe.

Jeeves and I decided to tell Haverleau its worst nightmare had come true. Elementals now knew the Shadow had infiltrated our society as Bastien Landry.

What they didn’t know was that there had been others. Sharing information on Vittorio Prideaux, Dr. Savion, or any of the other guises he’d taken over the years would’ve only caused unnecessary alarm.

And if I were being honest, our decision was partially based on protecting Rhian. The discovery that her trusted Chief Counsel had been the Shadow would’ve undercut a lifetime of extraordinary achievements. I didn’t want her legacy to be tarnished.

My conscience twinged over it, but I didn’t care.

Rhian had died protecting Haverleau. That was the only truth that mattered.

Dreadful black silk adorned the seating tiers in a ludicrous attempt to communicate somber significance. Large floral arrangements crowded the floor. Away from the warmth of the sun, the flowers appeared artificial and lifeless.

The sensitive chamber acoustics amplified every polite cough, every murmur, every uncomfortable shift in a seat.

Royal Gardinels carefully placed Rhian in the Summoning Pool. A luminous ivory glow spread through the water as magic accepted her return. She floated, noble and distinguished in her favorite suit, her hands folded on her stomach.

A line of representatives from Redavi families flowed across the floor to pay their final respects.
 

Council members remained seated around white marble tables arranged into the letter “T”. On my right, a familiar figure sat in the first tier of seating. Dark blue eyes, the same striking shade as his mother’s, caught mine.

Julian’s face tightened and he turned away. On my orders, he remained Haverleau’s Head Chevalier, a position that gave him a place on the Council as demillir representative. Jeeves had invited him to speak today, but he’d refused and remained in the audience.
 

If Julian had a choice he wouldn’t be here and he wanted me to know it.

Aubrey, Ian, Cam, Chloe, and Alex occupied the row above him. Ian was pale, his expression grave. Aubrey fidgeted, nervous tension rolling off her.

Above them, Headmaster Pelletier stared at Rhian’s still figure. All color had drained from his usually florid face.

A tanned ondine with short, dark blond hair sat beside him. Her petite frame appeared even smaller beside Pelletier’s portly physique.

She opened her bag and offered him a tissue. He hastily took it and swiped his eyes.
 

To the left of the empty Governor’s seat, Tristan watched the procession of Redavi, his beautiful face a mask of grief.

After hearing the news, he’d raced back from his kingdom and arrived moments before the ceremony began. We hadn’t even said hello yet.

Jeeves once told me Tristan often came to Haverleau as a child and considered Rhian, his mother’s close friend, to be almost like an aunt.

The glass tank on the other side of the Governor’s chair was conspicuously empty. Rhian had served alongside Jourdain for decades. Her lack of attendance was a deliberate insult directed at me.
 

The Redavi finished their procession. Each Council member stood and gave speeches filled with empty words that meant nothing.
 

Nanette Desmarais, a long-time Irisavie supporter, was the only one who displayed genuine emotion. Her eyes brimmed with loss as she spoke of her friend.
 

Tristan stood. His voice resonated with quiet power.
 

“Rhian Irisavie possessed many talents. She had a razor-sharp mind and a wit to match. She was fiercely loyal to her friends, her people, her family. She always provided what was needed: protection to those who were defenseless; support to those who needed belief; and resistance to those who would harm our innocents. The strength of her heart will fuel our legends.”

Pressure suddenly built behind my eyes and I rapidly blinked.

“Above all else, Rhian Irisavie was brave. She fought because she believed in us.” Tristan paused. “She was a tremendous leader and a great friend.”

He returned to his seat. Polite applause filled the chamber.

It was my turn.

I slowly stood. Hundreds of gazes pressed against me.

The entire speech I’d planned, everything I’d wanted to say about the Irisavies and Rhian’s sacrifices, fled from my mind.

All I could think of was the first time she’d shown me the photos she’d taken over the years. The way she called me
sondaleur
in this chamber. How she’d built the ondine training center.

And in the end, what emerged was a simple truth.

“She waited for years, then welcomed me back.”
 

An uncomfortable silence descended.

I sat down and stared at the table.
 

Council members shifted and murmurs stirred in the audience.

A slow clap began, the sound reverberating like a booming heartbeat. A moment later, others joined in.

I glanced up.

Tristan’s eyes met mine as he applauded. His royal mask momentarily slid and I saw straight into him. He understood.

The ceremony continued. By the time magic carried Rhian off on her final journey back to the sea, an aching restlessness had set in.

I wanted a long, hot shower to wash off the deluge of fake words and false sentiment. But I wasn’t done yet.

As Rhian’s remaining heir, it was my responsibility to accept condolence greetings on behalf of the Irisavie family. I plastered on a suitably bland smile and moved into the hallway.

Nameless faces blurred around me, sympathetic words blending into a monotonous drone.
   

Thin arms suddenly wrapped around my waist.
 

“I’m sorry,” Helene whispered.

She disappeared into the crowd before I could reply.

Catrin moved beside me. “She’s having a difficult time.”

Understandable. First, her sister’s recall. Then, the deaths in the Selkie Kingdom. Now this.

“Are you leaving soon?”

“Helene wants to stay so I’ve enrolled her at Lumiere. She’d like to train with Chloe and Amber.” A pause. “Like her sister.”

Pride laced her tone. As a powerful Kinetic, Renee had helped launch the ondine training program. Helene would make an excellent recruit.
 

“And you?”

Catrin’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Duty binds us all, Kendra. I have a community I must return to.”

And grief she needed to work through alone.

“I wish you’d stay.” She’d helped tremendously in New York. Having her near would be reassuring. “You could go back and forth.”

Rivelleu was a well-run community. She didn’t need to be there all the time.

“I’ll think about it.”

I hoped so. “Come back soon.”

“I will.”

She gave me a gentle hug and departed in a cloud of subtle perfume.

A silver head of hair crossed into view. Jeeves caught my eye and motioned.

Murmuring a few excuses, I slipped away from the crowd and followed him into the antechamber.

“What is it?”

“The confirmation ceremony is in a week.”

I nodded. It was when I’d officially become Governor.

“Do you know what will happen to the Irisavie seat on the Council?”

“Well normally, it’d be reserved until my child was of age, but since I’m not…oh.”

Realization dawned. Crap.
 

Jeeves looked grim. “Because you are currently unmated and without child, the Irisavies will be cast aside. Jourdain will determine a new Redavi family to replace your seat.”

Immortals were supposed to possess a wealth of wisdom accumulated through time. Jourdain, however, had proven to be more spiteful than benevolent. She controlled us like dolls, using us to continue fighting her war with the Shadow.